I turned the key in the lock, shoulders heavy from the long hours at work. The apartment was dimly lit, just the warm glow of the living room lamp and the soft scent of vanilla from the candle she loved. I expected Jihyo to be resting after her own busy schedule, but the moment I stepped inside, she appeared from the hallway wearing nothing but one of my oversized button-up shirts and a bright smile.

“Welcome home, husband,” she said softly, walking straight into my arms.

Jihyo. My wife of two years now. At twenty-nine, she still took my breath away every single time. Leader of TWICE, strong, caring, and the most loving person I’d ever known. Coming home to her always made everything better.

“Perfect timing,” she whispered against my chest, hugging me tight. “I missed you today.”

I kissed the top of her head, then tilted her chin up for a proper kiss. It started gentle, full of the quiet relief of being together again, but the heat built fast. Her hands slid under my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders as I walked her backward toward the couch.

“You’re not wearing much,” I murmured, smiling against her lips.

“Been waiting for you,” she replied, eyes sparkling. “Thought we could relax together.”

We didn’t make it to the bedroom right away. I sat on the couch and pulled her onto my lap. The shirt rode up her thighs as she straddled me, and I realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. My hands explored her soft skin, sliding up to cup her full breasts through the thin fabric.

Jihyo sighed happily when I unbuttoned the shirt, letting it fall open. Her breasts spilled free—heavy, beautiful, nipples already hard. I leaned in immediately, kissing and nuzzling between them before taking one into my mouth. I sucked gently at first, then harder, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while my hand kneaded the other.

“I love these so much,” I whispered, switching sides. “So soft and perfect. Could worship them all night.”

She moaned softly, arching her back to push them closer to my face. “They’re all yours, baby. Suck harder… I like when you get a little greedy.”

I did just that, burying my face in her chest, licking, sucking, and gently biting until she was squirming on my lap. My cock strained against my pants, and Jihyo noticed. She reached down, palming me through the fabric before unzipping me carefully.

Her hand wrapped around my length, stroking slowly. “Already so hard for me. Let me take care of you first.”

She slid off my lap and knelt between my legs. Looking up at me with that loving, slightly mischievous gaze, she licked a long stripe from base to tip, then swirled her tongue around the head. She took me into her warm mouth, sucking gently while her hand worked the base. The wet heat felt incredible after a tiring day.

“God, Jihyo… your mouth is perfect,” I groaned, hand resting lightly on her hair.

She hummed around me, bobbing her head deeper. Spit glistened on my shaft as she sucked with more purpose, eyes never leaving mine. After a few minutes she pulled off, stroking me fast with her slick hand.

“I want to try something,” she said with a shy smile. She rose a little, pressing her breasts together around my cock. The soft, warm pressure made me hiss in pleasure. Jihyo started moving, sliding her tits up and down while her tongue licked the head every time it appeared.

“Fuck, that feels amazing,” I breathed, watching her. I reached down to hold her hair, guiding her gently as she gave me the perfect titjob. She squeezed tighter, moving faster, licking and sucking until I was throbbing.

“I’m close,” I warned.

She kept going, eyes bright. “Cum on them, baby. I want to feel it.”

I came with a deep groan, thick ropes spilling across her breasts and collarbone. Jihyo kept stroking me through it, milking every drop, then smiled up at me sweetly. She used her fingers to scoop some up and taste it, making my spent cock twitch again.

I pulled her up immediately, kissing her deeply as I wiped her chest clean with my shirt. Then I laid her back on the wide couch, spreading her legs. She was soaked. I kissed down her body, spending extra time worshipping her breasts again before moving lower. But tonight she wanted more than that.

“Come here,” she whispered, pulling me up. “I need you inside me.”

I positioned myself between her thighs and pushed in slowly, both of us moaning at the tight, wet heat. Being inside Jihyo always felt like coming home. I started thrusting, steady and deep, leaning down to kiss her and suck on her breasts at the same time.

“Harder,” she breathed after a while, wrapping her legs around me. “I can take it tonight.”

I gripped her hips and picked up the pace, fucking her with more force. The couch creaked softly under us. I reached up and tangled my hand in her hair, tugging gently as I drove deeper. Jihyo moaned louder, nails digging into my back.

“Yes… pull my hair like that,” she gasped. “Feels so good when you get a little rough.”

The mix of love and raw need was perfect. I fucked her harder, semi-rough thrusts that made her breasts bounce. I leaned down to suck on them again, biting lightly at the soft flesh while pounding into her.

We changed positions, moving to the floor on the soft rug for more space. I took her from behind, her hands braced on the couch. Gripping her hair in one hand, I thrust deep, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the apartment. Jihyo pushed back against me, whimpering with pleasure.

“Fill me,” she begged. “Cum inside your wife.”

I reached around to rub her clit and she came hard, pussy clenching around me. The feeling pushed me over the edge. I buried myself deep and came, pumping thick loads into her pulsing heat.

We stayed connected for a long moment, catching our breath. I kissed her back and shoulders, stroking her sides gently. When I pulled out, some of my cum dripped down her thigh. I turned her around and kissed her softly, then laid her on the couch again.

“You’re not done yet?” she asked with a tired but happy laugh as I started hardening again.

“Not even close,” I murmured, kissing her breasts. “I still want to worship these.”

I slid my cock between her tits again, fucking them slowly while she held them together for me. The sight was incredible. After a few minutes I moved back between her legs, entering her once more in missionary. This time it was slower, more intimate—eyes locked, foreheads pressed together as I thrust deep.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, sucking on her nipple gently.

“I love you more,” she replied, voice breathy. “Being your wife is the best thing in my life.”

We built up again. I pulled her hair lightly, kissed her messily, and fucked her with steady, deep strokes. She came again, trembling beneath me, and I followed, pulling out at the last second to cum across her breasts and stomach in long spurts.

Afterward, I cleaned her carefully with a warm towel, kissing every spot I wiped. We moved to the bedroom, collapsing together under the sheets. Jihyo curled into my side, leg thrown over mine, head on my chest.

“That was exactly what I needed,” she said softly, tracing circles on my skin. “Coming home to you… getting to love you like this. Perfect timing every time.”

I stroked her hair, smiling. “You always know how to make my day better. Even after all this time, I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

We talked quietly for a long while—about her day at practice, my meetings, little plans for the weekend. She told me how safe and loved she felt with me, how my support helped her balance everything. I reminded her how proud I was of her strength and the way she cared for everyone around her.

At some point my hand wandered again, cupping her breast and playing with the nipple until she was softly moaning. We made love one more time—slow and sweet in the bed, her riding me gently while I worshipped her chest with my mouth and hands. When we finished, I came deep inside her again as she trembled through her own orgasm.

We fell asleep tangled together, her breathing steady against my neck. The apartment was quiet once more, city lights faint through the curtains. Jihyo was my everything—my wife, my love, my safe place. Nights like this reminded me how lucky I was to have perfect timing with her every single day.

The End.

Then she found the walkie-talkie.

It was sitting on a folding chair in the middle of the hallway, old and scratched, like something from decades ago. A small red light blinked on its side. Curious, she picked it up.

A low static crackled, then a male voice came through—clear, steady, and strangely close.

“Karina? Can you hear me? This is Officer Park Jisung. Do not move.”

She nearly dropped the device. “Who is this? How do you know my name?”

Static. Then the voice again, calmer this time. “I know this sounds insane, but you’re not where you think you are. The backstage area… it’s looping. Alternate layer. You need to listen to me carefully if you want to get out before Stage Zero fully collapses.”

Karina’s heart hammered. She looked around. The hallway looked normal again—no, wait. The posters on the wall were wrong. Her own face smiled back at her, but the eyes were slightly too wide, the smile stretched. One of the posters had her name spelled “Kar1na.”

“This isn’t funny,” she whispered, gripping the walkie-talkie tighter. “If this is some staff prank—”

“It’s not a prank,” Jisung cut in, voice urgent. “I’m outside the anomaly zone, monitoring from the real world. The walkie is your anchor. There are anomalies—things that don’t belong. Spot them, avoid triggering them, and find the correct exit. One wrong move and the loop resets. You’ll forget everything again.”

Karina swallowed hard. Part of her wanted to throw the device away and run, but another part—the part that had survived years in the idol industry—knew when something was real. The air felt heavier. Wrong.

“Okay,” she said shakily. “What do I do?”

“First, turn around slowly. Tell me what you see.”

She turned. The hallway behind her had changed again. A mannequin dressed in one of her stage outfits stood at the far end, head tilted at an unnatural angle. Its fingers were too long.

“There’s… a mannequin. Wearing my outfit. It wasn’t there before.”

Jisung’s voice dropped. “That’s Anomaly 04. Do not look directly at its face. Walk past it on the left side, eyes on the floor. Count your steps. If it moves, run.”

Karina’s breathing quickened. She kept her gaze down, heart pounding as she passed the mannequin. She swore she heard fabric rustling behind her, but she didn’t look back. Ten steps. Fifteen. The temperature dropped sharply.

“Good,” Jisung said, relief evident. “You’re doing well. Keep going straight. There should be a green room door on your right in about thirty meters. But watch for the clocks.”

The clocks. As she walked, she noticed them—old analog clocks on the walls, all showing different times. One was melting like wax, dripping onto the floor. Another spun wildly backward.

She reached the green room door. The handle felt ice-cold. When she pushed it open, the room inside was a perfect replica of her actual dressing room… except the mirror showed her reflection with black tears running down her cheeks, though her real face was dry.

“Jisung,” she whispered into the walkie. “The mirror… it’s crying.”

“Close the door. Slowly. That’s a memory bleed. Don’t interact with your reflections—they pull you deeper into the slip.”

She slammed the door shut, backing away. The hallway had shifted again. Now it sloped downward slightly, and distant music—her own song—played backward at a crawl.

Jisung’s voice crackled through. “You’re in a time slip layer now. The anomalies get smarter the deeper you go. Tell me everything you see, no matter how small. I’m cross-referencing with previous victims’ reports. We’re going to get you out, Karina. I promise.”

Victims. The word made her stomach twist.

She kept moving, describing every wrong detail: the staff ID cards on the floor with photos of people who had no eyes, the vending machine that dispensed photographs instead of drinks—pictures of her performing on stages that didn’t exist. One photo showed her alone on stage, audience seats filled with motionless mannequins.

Every time she spotted something off and avoided it correctly, Jisung praised her quietly, his voice becoming a strange source of comfort in the growing madness.

But the loops were getting shorter.

After what felt like an hour—but the walkie said only eleven minutes had passed—she found herself back at the same folding chair where she’d found the device. The mannequin was closer now, head fully turned toward her.

“Jisung,” she breathed, voice trembling. “I’m back where I started. It reset.”

A pause on the other end. When he spoke again, there was tension beneath the calm.

“Stage Zero is tightening. You have to break the pattern this time. Next loop, take the left corridor instead of right at the first split. And Karina… if you see yourself walking toward you, do not speak to her. Run.”

Karina gripped the walkie-talkie like a lifeline, sweat mixing with the remnants of stage makeup. The lights flickered again, and somewhere deep in the corridors, she heard footsteps that sounded exactly like her own heels—but faster. Closer.

She started walking again, following Jisung’s instructions, every nerve on edge as the backstage labyrinth twisted around her once more.

This wasn’t just a building anymore. It was alive. And it was hungry.

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